Beauty and the Beast
by Shini02
Summary: Oneshot. It's just her and him and something in the air that makes her feel like a lady. Cat R. WaulxTanya.


_You'd think I'd have something better to do at quarter to two in the morning, like, oh, I don't know... Sleep, maybe? XD_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, except the old bird cage mentioned at the end of the ficlet.

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**Beauty and the Beast**

Finally. He finally had her at his mercy, cornered and with her back to the boarding supporting the general store. He squatted down, his monocle gleaming in the sunlight, causing her to raise her arms to block the glint before she had been temporarily blinded. The glare died down after he adjusted the piece of rounded glass on his face, and once she could look him in the face again, she glared.

"I thought you were run out of town," she said, her hands turning into tight fists against the skirt of her dress.

He chuckled, recalling rather unpleasant memories if only for the sake of humoring her. "What goes around comes around. Including the train, my dear. It was all at matter of patience that assured my return."

The glare turned into a look that made his blood boil. She was smirking at him, lips tight and eyes narrowed on him. "And won't your _owner_ miss you?" She knew from the beginning he had been too high class to be a stray, it seemed only natural he belonged to the busty woman that frequented the opera house above the saloon.

And paranoia sunk in right about then as he waited for the awful name to be carried to him on the wind. But no _Pussy-Poos_ ever came wafting by, for which he was thankful. He cleared his throat, politely fisting a paw in front of his mouth as he did so before speaking again. "Poppycock," he waved the notion away in one fluid flick of his wrist. In a week, when she finally noticed him missing, he would be replaced with a fresh, young Persian, no doubt.

Her arms were over her chest. "What do you want?" Her first thought was revenge, considering that had been the last thing he had shouted before being whisked away by the mail train. But even though he talked the talk, she doubted he'd walk the walk. Besides, revenge was a messy business and he was definitely not the type to have blood on his paws.

He arched his back in a way that let him lean in closer. "What do I want?" He echoed her question, lips curving in the slightest. "An excellent question," he murmured and she could almost hear the purr rising from the back of his throat.

"Well, what is it?"

Such a simple answer was on the tip of his tongue, but keeping her in suspense was so very delightful. He had always known she had a fire inside of her, but when every little bit of her soul was aflame – god, she was beautiful.

"I will only tell you if you agree to come with me," he said, the slight curve on his lips fading quickly the moment he saw the look of defiance in her eyes.

"My brother will – "

"Ah, ah!" He shushed her. "There will be no need for him to play hero again, not today." She rose an eyebrow at him. "I assure you. All I ask is you give me your trust and come along with me for a few moments."

He was holding a paw out to her. She blushed, remembering the way she danced with him that day she should have been tending to the paint job on Papa's violin store. He hadn't hurt her then. And if he had wanted to hurt her now, he would have already done so.

Biting at her bottom lip, she stepped lightly onto his paw, then sat down with her legs folded under her. He stood, and there was silence as he walked her back to the dressing room in the saloon. He set her down on a vanity and sat comfortably on the bench.

She looked around, and caught on surprisingly fast. "You want me to sing for you again?"

He removed his top-hat and monocle. "Precisely, my dear. I want you to sing _for me_."

She shifted from foot to foot, wrung her hands together and glanced to her reflection in the dusty mirror. She had no pretty dress or make-up this time, and Miss Kitty wasn't around to boost her confidence even just a little. It was just _her_ and _him_ and _something_ in the air that, somehow, made her feel like a lady when she turned her attention back to those big, green eyes.

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Listening to her sing, he glanced to an old birdcage collecting cobwebs in one of the far away corners of the room.

She hit a high note that made his heart pound inside his chest.

Oh, he wanted to take his little diva and keep her in that cage. There she would be his – his prisoner, his nightingale – and sing for no one else.

-End


End file.
